The two babies came downstairs one day to discover a very big surprise was waiting for them – their very own bath!

They were very, very happy about this and got in straight away!

They were pleased to be in the bath as they had been wearing the same clothes for over a year, and so they absolutely reeked.

They also wore those clothes in the bath, because that’s what you do in a bath isn’t it.

‘This is nice’ said Winky-Eye Baby, as he pretend-sploshed water all over his (her?) clothes.

‘Yes it is’ replied Onesie Baby ‘It’s about bloody time too. I thought my clothes were going to be classed as a biohazard if I let them get any dirtier’.

‘You do know there isn’t actually any water?’ said Winky-Eye Baby, with a worried frown on his (her?) face ‘It’s all just pretend. Don’t tell me you’ve been at the bleach again?!’.

‘It’s real if you wish hard enough’ said Onesie Baby.

‘Well, why don’t you shit in one hand and wish in the other, and see which one fills up first’ replied Winky-Eye Baby.

After their bath the two babies had a lovely game of ‘High Fly’, a fun game which involved them being hurled as fast as they could be at walls and doors, by their boisterous Mummy. She was a very loving Mummy, but she loved in a quite violent way, and so if the two babies were real she would probably be doing about 25 years-to-life in prison for infanticide.

Though if they were real it would probably raise more questions about how a three-and-a-half year-old could have babies.

After their game the two babies decided to have another bath, but were shocked to discover it had been stolen!

Who stole it?

‘It’s that fucking cat!’ said Winky-Eye Baby ‘As if it’s not bad enough that we get used as a teeth and claw sharpener by that thing, now we will have to clean out its hairs before we get back in!’

‘And we might catch toxoplasmosis’ he (she?) added.

‘What’s toxoplasmosis?’ Onesie Baby asked.

‘Its that disease from cat shit that killed Tommy in Trainspotting’ replied Winky-Eye Baby ‘Mind you he was a junkie with AIDS, so we should be alright’

‘Plus we’ve got no central nervous system’ added Onesie Baby.

The cat did look awfully comfortable though, and the two babies worried they would never get their bath back, but just then he woke up!

‘Oh I do hope he doesn’t bite my head again’ said Winky-Eye Baby

‘That’s not the worst thing they do’ replied Onesie Baby ‘I’ve heard when they get older they hump you’

‘No I think that’s dogs’ countered Winky-Eye Baby ‘Plus he’s having his bollocks off next month so it shouldn’t be an issue’.

Just then Mummy arrived, and the two babies had beaming smiles on their faces at the prospect of getting their bath back. Or they would have done if in fact they could smile, and weren’t just moulded lumps of rubber.

So we said that we would get a cat when we moved to France. It all seemed so abstract when we said it, even the idea of actually moving to this lovely country seemed like a dim and distant dream. But here we are. And now so is he.

His name’s Jesse, he’s a black cat. Just a generic one, nothing fancy, thought it best if we start out with a standard model, before looking at something else in ten years time (that’s how long they live, right?). I wasn’t all that bothered to be honest, I’m more of a dog person. But then I was constantly beaten about the head with this promise we’d made to the kids.

That plus my son already has the name picked out.

As luck (depending on your viewpoint on cats) would have it a colleague of my partner had just found a stray kitten, abandoned and alone. What a heartbreaking story. My partner approached me and, using her largest eyes, convinced me to take it on. After all, we had promised the kids.

He settled in well on the Sunday we brought him home, he was already trained to do ‘his business’ where he should so that was one box ticked. Then the next day my partner went to work, and it was just me, the kids and a cat. Approximately two-hours after she’d left I sent her the following text:

START ASKING YOUR COLLEAGUES IF THEY WANT A CAT. THAT CAT HAS TO GO. WE DIDN’T THINK THIS THROUGH. IT’S TOO MUCH. IF I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS FOR THE NEXT SEVEN WEEKS I’LL GO MAD.

Oh yeah, did I mention that this is the start of the 8-week Summer holidays, here in France? Well it is.

So after that frantic text I sent both kids to their rooms in a bid to de-stress. It may not sound like much, but after being used to coping with two kids, settling into that groove and knowing how to run things smoothly, you introduce an 8 pound (I’m guessing, I haven’t weighed him) ball of fur, claws and teeth into the mix and things go to hell.

I came down into the living-room, full of plans as to who we could give him to, who would need a cat…anything to get him out of the house as quickly as possibly. I sat on the couch and who came up to me, purring like the world’s smallest lawnmower? Of course it was Jesse.

He stayed like that for ten minutes, purring away, until he fell asleep. I think it was right then that I decided he was part of the family. I quickly sent a text to my partner, in a bid to erase the earlier one, knowing full well that she would never forget it and bring it up, again, and again, and again….

He’s alright. I like him. He doesn’t half sleep in some funny positions too, which is amusing..

But on the other hand, he’s curious about everything, which can mean it’s difficult to get any work done…

Computer restart due to cat jumping on all keys, in case you were wondering.

So yes, our relationship got off to a rocky start, but now we seem to be firm friends. You know, as long as I feed him, water him, clean up his poo and give him lots of cuddles.